
Helen Williston Brown 




Class 

Book._— _ 
Copyriglit]^?- 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



ELAN VITAL 



BY 



HELEN WILLISTON BROWN 




BOSTON 

THE GORHAM PRESS 

1917 



S r ' \^ 



Copyright, 1917, by Helen Williston Brown 



All Rilrhts Reserved 






l^ 



MADE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

Thb Oorham Prsss, Boston, U. S. A. 



MAR ! 6 1917 

©GI,A457460 ^( ^ /^>ut 



"Vi^O ^{ , 



TO MY HUSBAND 
SANGER BROWN, II 



CONTENTS 

A Child's Epitaph to Her Bird 7 

From a Schoolroom 1 1 

Shadowings I2 

Youth 13 

Elan Vital 17 

To 18 

Sunt Lacrimae Rerum 19 

Spring's Lament for Winter 20 

Glamour 21 

The Campus 22 

The Difference 23 

Ad Astra 24 

L'Envoi 25 

Hero Worship 26 

Reunion 27 

The Doctor 31 

The Army of Metchnikoff 32 

Post Impressions 34 

The Third Year Student's Nightmare 35 

Of the Earth 38 

In Dispensary 39 

The Final Victor 40 

Two Ways 41 

The Imagist Muse 45 

The Sentence 46 



CONTENTS 

To Dr. Anna Howard Shaw 47 

A Dream 48 

The Imaginative Chauffeur 49 

On the Origins of Romance 50 

Senility , 51 

The Hero 52 

Afternoon Tea 53 

To Alice 54 

To M. W. W 55 



A CHILD'S EPITAPH TO HER BIRD 

Here lies a little bird 

Of whom the world ne'er heard. 

No poet of him sung 

For he died very young. 

This epitaph I made him 

When in his grave I laid him. 



AT ROSEMARY 



FROM A SCHOOLROOM 

The letters blur before my eyes, 
The figures on the board grow dim, 
And once again I walk with him 
Beneath the light of April skies. 

I feel again the Southern breeze 
Blow on my cheek, and as I pass, 
I hear the rustling of dry grass 
And blue birds singing in the trees. 

Here by the shining brook we stand. 

I have no need at all of aid, 

But I would fain appear afraid 

That I may take the outstretched hand. 

His hand — I never shall forget, — 
Perhaps held closer than the need. 
For now, when mine again is freed, 
It seems as though he held it yet. 



II 



SHADOWINGS 

The other night I had a curious dream, 
A spectre came and stood beside my bed. 
"Arise and follow me," the spectre said, 
"And see things as they are, not as they seem." 

Then I arose, not knowing what to do 
And trembling, cried in fear, "Who may you be? 
Your face is turned away, I cannot see." 
To which the spectre answered, "I am you." 

"And what you are is what I now shall show. 
See here, this wild, uncultivated spot. 
Full of rank weeds and things that profit not, 
That represents exactly what you know." 

"I cannot see," cried I in angry tone, 
"You always stand directly in my light. 
And though I try and try with all my might 
Where e'er I look, I see but you alone !" 

I turned and tried to flee then, as I spoke. 
But just as swiftly sped my hateful guide. 
I could not leave it, though I vainly tried 
And lo ! It was a dream, and I awoke. 



12 



YOUTH 

Give me no idle hours to live, I pray, 
Nor drowsy days to gently pass away. 
No careless peace, no quiet rest of mind. 
Let life go swiftly, swiftly, with no stay. 

Fill my existence full of eager life. 
May every second be with action rife. 
Let me drink deep of sorrow and of pain. 
Of hope, and joy, and happiness, and strife. 

But most of all I long for, give me this,- 
What ever else of good my life may miss. 
To love, so life and love shall be but one. 
To love with all the life that in me is. 

Then, when my heart is filled to overflow 
With loving, living, happiness and woe. 
Let me not live to see the passion fade 
But, by some sudden ending, let me go. 



13 



AT BRYN MAWR 



ELAN VITAL 

If what the poets dream be really true, — 

That love and truth and beauty never die, 

And life is but a shadow^ and a hope 

Of a far shining, glad reality, — 

How joyfully I then would seek the truth! 

But, if the dream is just a splendid lie. 

And poets are blind leaders of the blind 

Who, in their mad delusion think to see 

A glorious shining in the heavy dark,— 

If this be true, — I would, like them, be mad. 



17 



TO 

Would that my brain were of a firmer stuff 

That I might grave thereon, indelibly, 

That face, 

Nor lose a single line of it; 

In all, through all, and over all, see him, 

Until at last I slip away into oblivion 

Looking upon him only. 



i8 



SUNT LACRIMAE RERUM 

Happy we were, Love, you and I, 
Under the cherry trees together 
Smiling up at the smiling sky, 
Joyous hearts in the joyous weather. 

White were your hands as the cherry blossoms, 
Soft was your cheek as the breeze in May, 
Little we thought love, you and I, 
Time would carry so much away! 

Let us look back, dear, into the past. 
Watch how the years go trooping on. 
They have taken all we said should last, 
And the dreams of youth are gone. 

Tell me, sweetheart, are we to blame 
That we did not keep the years away? 
To lovers true is all time the same — 
A thousand years as a single day? 



19 



SPRING'S LAMENT FOR WINTER 

Why hast thou vanished from my arms, beloved 

Winter ? 
On thy cold cheek I laid my soft, warm hand. 
'Twas then I heard a blue bird sing 
And all the air was bright, and I was glad, 
But as I turned to kiss thee, thou wast gone. 
Now have I followed thee so far 
Unto the bare, bleak regions of the North, 
And wander, now, beneath thy tall, black fir trees, — 
Forever following after thee. 
Yet thou art ever gone before. 
O wilt thou not return again? 
See, I will pluck for thee my fairest flowers. 
And pour the myriad hues of all my dancing foun- 
tains at thy feet, 
While all the air shall ring with songs of birds. 
Will not this beauty bring thee back once more? 
Or, is it true, as some voice seems to tell me, 
Thou lovest me not as in the early time 
When we two walked the bare wood-lands together 
And naught was green save one small birch tree, 
Shivering beneath thy wild, cold snowflakes? 
If this be so, then are we ever parted 
And I must follow now the path to summer 
Where all is bright and warm and beautiful. 
Yet, O, how lonely is my heart without thee I 



ao 



GLAMOUR 

Song of birds, and dancing streams, 
Sky of a brilliant summer day, 
A winding road where sunlight gleams, 
And I and my dream love, riding away. 

Setting sun in the distant clouds. 
Sad, cold shade where the light has flown ; 
Bare, bleak hills that the damp mist shrouds,- 
And I am riding, riding alone. 



Zl 



THE CAMPUS 

In autumn when the ivy leaves turned crimson 

On the grey stone buildings, 

The maple trees vi^ere yellow as gold, 

And the sun shone out of a deep blue sky. 

How my heart leaped up to greet it in the morning 

When I ran to chapel through the frosty air. 

On winter nights, when the wind blew 

Across the cold white snow, 

The buildings standing black against the sky 

Were full of lighted windows; 

The campus lights glowed yellow and round, 

Leading away into the darkness. 

And far above, the frosty moon 

Slid swiftly behind the windy clouds. 

But, oh! in the springtime. 

The lawns of the campus were greener than emer- 
ald; 

Against the grey walls the ivy leaves shimmered ; 

The cherry trees bloomed, and the pink and white 
dogwood ; 

Oh, then witii the strength of my youth, how I 
loved it. 



22 



THE DIFFERENCE 

A teacher will teach what authorities deem 
You should know, nor permit you to doubt it. 
A professor is so much in love with his theme 
That he just has to tell you about it. 



23 



AD ASTRA 

Out of the sorrowing hearts of men, 
Hearts with rapture and anguish wrung, 

Out of the shade that sin had made, 
A crimson flower sprung. 

The flower grew from the hearts of men, 

In the darkness and the clay, 
But its blossoms turned where God's sun burned 

In the white space far away. 

Because the flower grew in the clay. 

Men said it was defiled, 
But the Spirit above, who rules in love. 

Beheld the flower and smiled. 



24 



L'ENVOI 

Far down the pathway, into the darkness 
Glimmer the lights in their warm misty halos. 
Green are the trees whose pointed leaves quiver 
Glimmer and rustle when soft the breeze passes. 
Far, far down the pathway are figures approaching 
White, swaying onward, and now they are singing. 
Sweet, sweet is their song and weird in the darkness, 
Hark, how their singing is mingled with laughter. 
Now as they pass we may see their young faces, 
Happy, young faces, gay, wistful and eager. 
They are passed, and their song is again growing 

fainter, 
Lingering now in a last, dying cadence. 
Out of the twilight they came, and as quickly 
Into the twilight again they departed. 



25 



HERO WORSHIP 

The light of sudden laughter in his eyes 
Was sweet to me as are the flowers in May. 

I listened for his step upon the stair, — 

Then, when at last he came, 

And I could hear him in the dingy hall 

With rattling keys, unlock his office door, 

The library, wherein I toiled 

O'er chemistry in German, 

Suddenly appeared a warm attractive spot. 

And as I read, I heard his footsteps 

Come and go along the passage way, 

Or in the laboratory, and I knew 

From long and close attention. 

Just what he was at, — 

Combustions maybe, or a melting point, — 

And I was quite content in knowing he was there. 



26 



REUNION 

O happy days, when in the springs gone by 
We watched the lawns grow green beneath the sun, 
The campus maples spread their pointed leaves, 
And on the gray stone walls, the Ivy buds 
Shimmer and grow till all the world was green. 
Most joyfully we stood beneath the sky, 
Raising our arms In ecstacy to heaven. 
To see the spring come back to us again. 

So much of life has flowed between 

That time and now. The years have gone. 

Our lives are elsewhere; we are not the same; 

And some of us have lost the light 

Of faces that we loved. 

It seems as though the shades were coming back 

To flit again upon the campus grass. 



27 



AT JOHNS HOPKINS MEDICAL SCHOOL 



THE DOCTOR 

Slender and tall and stately 

With long, thin, beautiful hands, 

A handsome head, with hair turned grey, 

Great dignity, and a gentle way 

Of saying the things he has to say, 

And a spirit that understands. 



31 



THE ARMY OF METCHNIKOFF 

The leukocyte had had his tea 

And In the lymph space, calm, reclined, 

Smiling, as happy as could be, 
Desiring peace for all cell kind. 

When, hark! A pseudopodic thud 

Is heard his smiling peace to mar. 
It rouses all his fighting blood. 

He scents the battle from afar. 

He hastens to the nearest vein. 

Protrudes his nose into a crack, 
Then wriggles through with might and main, 

Once inside, joins a motley pack! 

Of stupid, bumping, red blood cells, 
Of white cells crawling on the wall ; 

Some snobbish, basophilic swells. 
And platelets with no shape at all, 

All hastening towards the seat of war. 

Each one resolved to do his best, 
And, tho' he knew not what 'twas for, 

Our leukocyte went with the rest. 

"The vessel's plugged, crawl through, crawl out, 
Connective tissue, crosslots crawl!" 

So rose the vanguards' warning shout, 
And so obedient, did they all. ; 

At length behold the battle ground. 

See how the dread bacilli swarm! 
Their long flagella wave around 

Like grasses in a driving storm. 
32 



Now coward heart 'twould be to dread 
The poison of each gleaming spear. 

The ground is heaped and heaped with dead 
For Death is lord and master here. 

But in our polynuclear's breast 

A bacchanalian frenzy glows, 
And many microbes he'll ingest 

Before he reels among his foes. 

He reels, he falls, his life is past 

All unregarded in the wrack, 
Tho' Victory may come at last, 

She cannot bring her warrior back. 

And many millions, such as he 

Must die, the triumph to complete; 

The ghastly crown of victory 

If formed from smoke wreaths of defeat. 



33 



POST IMPRESSIONS 

He took me out to dinner, and we sat 

Opposite at table for an hour or more, 

Smiling into each others faces, 

Just so far away 

I might have touched his shoulder 

By stretching out my arm. 

Then, when he brought me home again, 

And we had said good-bye, and he was gone,- 

Still, all that night, his contemplative eyes 

Gazed at me from the darkness, 

Just so far away. 



34 



THE THIRD YEAR STUDENT'S NIGHT- 
MARE 

I could not study any more, 
My book slipped softly to the floor. 
Just as I gently closed an eye 
Rose Dr. Hollis, three miles high, 
Who, pointing to an X-ray said, 
''This is a plate of Steadman's head. 
The mist, that all the outline shrouds 
Is proof his head is in the clouds. 
In his last clinic Doctor Hare 
Thinks that he heard a murmur there." 
To which the latter made demur. 
And said he could not feel quite sure, 
The history was incomplete 
And there were noises in the street. 
He should be interested to hear 
What the post mortem had made clear. 
But Doctor Hyatt said with pain 
"There's no permission for the brain;" 
Then Doctor Winterson arose 
And waved his knife beneath my nose 
And, pointing, said, "What organ's that? 
Can you tell splenic pulp from fat?" 
At which I faded quite away 
In time to hear a sad voice say, 
"She says she has no appetite 
And worries more than half the night. 
Her medicine has made her sick. 
She wants a real doctor, quick!" 
To which another voice replied, 
"The baby cried, and cried, and cried. 
I put a bandage on its head 
But 'twas a tape worm instead, 
35 



Which would unwind its self so fast 
It got away from me at last, 
And as it went I heard it say, 
'To-night I must be far away. 
I think the worst of all my trials 
Is trying to keep up with styles.' " 

Then someone tried to go away, 
But others said we'd better stay, 
Especially as those before 
Met Doctor Mellon at the door. 
And first of all he called on me. 
He said, what would the answer be. 
And did I think it would be worse 
If every lever should reverse; 
Then, when I said I did not know, 
He answered he expected so. 
But Doctor Oakly cried in glee, 
''This case has phobia, you see. 
Afraid of me, afraid of you. 
That's not one phobia, but two. 
I think if properly addressed. 
We quickly can make out the rest. 
Now do you not or don't you think 
That red's a deeper shade of pink? 
Some hesitation. In this state 
The patients often hesitate. 
If you should see a mouse at night 
Would it be purple, green or white? 
You're sure it is not white or green? 
Then purple mice, at night, you've seen. 
Illusions of this striking kind 
Denote the pathologic mind. 
Such hesitation and delusion 
Betray a high grade of confusion." 

36 



But Doctor Roberts cried, "Just wait! 
This patient's an ataxic gait. 
Has gastric crises every day 
And reflexes are gone, they say." 
Now this was more than I could bear 
And I woke trembling in my chair. 



37 



OF THE EARTH 

O blue-green garment of the world, 
So lightly yet so wholly thrown 
Over the face of the Unknown, — 

fair green garment of the world! 

Thy web of earth, and sky, and sea, 
Is all the universe I know. 
And only what a sense may show. 

Has ever come in dreams to me. 

1 should not know the hand of God 
Unless it were in earthly guise. 

How dream of light without the eyes? 
I should not know the hand of God. 

And I, with my white feet of clay. 
My heart so full of earthly things, 
I have no self to soar on wings 

Into some pallid, unknown day. 

But loving best the blue-green earth, 
I turn to it with clinging hands. 
Is this not all my life demands — 

The light and love of the green earth? 

For so my mind and heart have grown 
Out of this world of time and sense. 
That I should be, if taken thence, 

An empty ghost of the Unknown. 



38 



IN DISPENSARY 

I slip from the dispensary door 

Where all the rows of seats 

Are empty now; only a drunkard on the floor 

Awaits in deep, unconscious peace 

The coming of contemptuous police. 

Over the random pavement, where 

The gutters break a steady stride, 

I chase the fleeing trolley car 

And gasping, climb amid the motley crew 

That throng it. Here, while journeying for home, 

I ponder on the happenings of the day, — 

The dreary toll of patients in dispensary. 

That poor old woman with a tale of woe, 

And indigestion consequent there on, 

(As well attempt to pacify the sea, 

As placate indigestion when its cause 

Comes nightly reeling home.) 

The colored lady with rheumatic pains 

Of ten years standing, and an endless row 

Of ugly babies, patched with eczema. 

Coffee and cabbage, and a taste of beer, 

As like as not will prove to be their fare. 

The little boy with the infected knee. 

How his face haunts you! 

So it goes. 



39 



THE FINAL VICTOR 

I brush all foolish dreams aside 

That gentler gods possess the throne. 

Why dream, If facts the dream deride? 
There Is no god save Death alone. 

I feel his cruel, cold, white hands 

Press heavily upon my own, 
That strive to stay the ebbing sands. 

There Is no god but Death alone. 

The heaped up knowledge of the years 
Like chaff before the wind Is blown 

When Death with dread Intent appears. 
There Is no god but Death alone. 

Love triumphs, glorious for a while. 
Thinking she may her lord disown, 

Death waits with a contemptuous smile. 
There Is no god but Death alone. 

Like one who watches children play 
Who heed not how the time has flown, 

He stops the game at close of day. 
There Is no god but Death alone. 



40 



TWO WAYS 

Yours is a level, tranquil way; 
I wander forth with outstretched hands 
Where dumb and wild emotions sway 
In dim and far volcanic lands. 

But I, who fail in half I do, 
And smile to see my own despair. 
Perceive a glory hid from you 
Tho' you should seek it everjrwhere. 

And I, who waste my soul in strife, 
In fighting blackness, catch a gleam, — 
I know of love outlasting life. 
That is to you an empty dream. 

So yours may be the level road 
Where skies are fair and fields are bright, 
Serene and tranquil your abode. 
I walk among the Gods tonight. 



41 



POST HOC 



THE IMAGIST MUSE 

As lovely spirits sprang from Grecian Soil 

Out of the worship of our Mother Earth, 

So from New England's rocky hills 

There springs, today, a muse, — 

Muse of the Imagists. Behold her come 

With strangely halting steps. 

Like one w!ho long has trod uneven ground. 

Her dress is somewhat sombre; 

Her straight hair drawn tightly back; 

Upon her eagle face, the look 

Of one who serves an iron cause ; 

New England conscience shining in her eyes, 

While her firm lips declare 

That they virill speak the truth 

And nothing but the truth, 

So help her God! 



4S 



THE SENTENCE 

Far in the vague, dim, early days, 
When phantoms thronged the misty air, 
The world was all a magic maze — 
Wood spirits wandered everywhere; 

But Science threw a searching light 
Down the dim pathways of the past. 
The lovely spirits fled in fright, 
Their doom pronounced on them at last. 

Empty the woods of fairy folk. 
Their wailing dies upon the breeze. 
Science their solemn sentence spoke, 
"Man fashioned you from vines and trees." 



46 



TO DR. ANNA HOWARD SHAW 

One tribute more I, too, would pay 

To that indomitable soul 

Who, through so many weary years, 

Has held aloft the flaming torch 

That lights her feebler sisters 

To the goal of freedom — 

Freedom from all the myths of centuries. 

May her mighty spirit dwell among us 

Till that time shall come when man 

May prove his chivalry, and give 

The symbol of their freedom, 

To the women who have hoped for it so long. 



47 



A DREAM 

Last night I dreamt that you, who are, 

And you, who used to be. 

And I, were going out somewhere, 

Were going out, we three. 

We seemed to be at college, 

And were going out to tea. 

And you, and I, came slowly down 
To meet the you that were. 
I stopped beside the leaded panes 
That light the winding stair. 
You went to look for your old self. 
But found you were not there; 
And when you told me so I said, 
"My dear, — I do not care." 



48 



THE IMAGINATIVE CHAUFFEUR 

I am a chauffeur. 

I sing of the joy of a life that is lived in the open, 

Beneath the blue sky and the sunlight of heaven; 

Or the vv^hite, slashing rain; or the cold stars of mid- 
night. 

Let others toil under roofs, — 

Inside w^alls pierced with vv^indows. 

I dwell in the open. 

My car is my kingdom, 

I rule it with a rod of iron. 

My car is my slave. 

It flies at my bidding. 

My car is my sweet-heart, 

There is none fine as she is. 

The purr of her tires, the throb of her motor 

Are sweet to my ears as the soft voice of love. 

What though others dictate the roads that I follow, 

I, I am really ever the master. 

I hold all their lives in the crook of my elbow. 

Like a Viking of old, who sails over the ocean. 

Like a warrior of old, who rides through the wide 
world, 

I traverse the earth, a free man among free men. 



49 



ON THE ORIGINS OF ROMANCE 

Crouching within his damp and dirty cave 

The unkempt cave-man 

Gazed into the blackness of the night. 

Behind him on the earth, his ugly consort lay 

Surrounded by her stupid progeny, 

Huddled like sleeping puppies. 

They slept ; but he, how could he sleep 

So wracked with terrors of the fearful dark ! 

That breath of wind upon his cheek, — 

Was it some spirit come to blight his hearth? 

Were those the eyes of a strange, savage beast? 

And what was that soft foot-fall in the forest? 

Did it not seem that space itself 

Was filled with cruel, clawing hands 

That sought to snatch away his furtive soul ? 

So thought the cave-man shuddering in the dark, 

Straining his fearful eyes to trace 

Some outline in the blackness. 

Vague, uncertain, like a mist behind the tree trunks, 

Spead a dim light from the eastward ; 

In the distance, out of nowhere 

Suddenly, the moon slid upward 

And the blackness fled before it, 

Leaving only streaks of shadow 

From the tall stems of the pine trees. 

Cautiously the cave-man peered about him. 
Saw that the new light revealed no menace, 
Not the shadow of a spirit, only peace; 
And deep within his savage heart 
There stirred a warm emotion 
For the magic of the moon. 
50 



SENILITY 

The light of his own reason all gone out; 

The present time become a blur of sunshine and of 

shade, 
Through which familiar faces peer and pass ; 
He wanders down the bjrw^ays of his brain, 
Along the devious paths worn there 
By the innumerable footsteps of his ancestors, 
Among old thoughts of half remembered things. 



51 



THE HERO 

An epic figure he appears, 
A character of high romance, 
To fable of in future years,- 
He drives a "tank" in France. 



52 



AFTERNOON TEA 

Mournful the dwelling, where darkness descending, 
Finds not the presence of laughter and glee. 

Drear is the twilight that draws to its ending 
With never an hour for afternoon tea. 

Then blest be the tea tray resplendantly gleaming; 

The warm, glowing fire before which it stands. 
Thrice blest be the tea kettle, bubbling and steaming, 

And the heavenly brew the occasion demands. 

The spirit of laughter presides at the meeting 
Of light hearted folk from their labors set free. 

Come join the gay circle that gives a glad greeting 
To the comfortable hour of afternoon tea. 



53 



TO ALICE 

I have a friend that tills the land, 
Who with the eye of faith can see 
Just how the garden she has planned, 
In future years will be. 

Two oak leaves from an acorn grown, 
When rightly viewed give excellent shade ; 
These seedlings, I should not have known, 
Bear flowers that cannot fade. 

By faith her small box bushes grow. 
Quite close together, three feet high ; 
By faith tall chestnuts in a row, 
Obliterate the summer sky. 

By faith she sees this scraggy vine 
Embower half the garden wall, 
And little plants that peak and pine 
Grown thrifty, strong and tall. 

Admiringly I hear her talk. 
And what I must suppose is 
That, where I find a gravel walk, 
She treads a path of roses. 



54 



TO M. W. W. 

Dear Heart, I do not need your picture, 

There upon the wall. 
To bring your lovely presence 

Back to me again; 
For, on a day like this, when the bright sun 
Flames thro' the glory of the clear blue sky, 
And all the earth is autumn red and gold, 
It seems as tho', if I stretched out my hand 

Into the sunshine, 
I should feel your presence there, 
And touch the golden glory of your hair. 



55 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce£ 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologie 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATIC 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724) 779-2111 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



018 602 357 2 




